


flicker of the heart

by BeforeDawn



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-11-08 07:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17976713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeforeDawn/pseuds/BeforeDawn
Summary: Love isn't always a straight path and neither was your relationship with Arthur.





	1. Chapter 1

“She’s pretty.”

“Of course she’s pretty! Arthur can’t be throwing his life away for someone who looks like an old boot.” You huff in response, earning a sidelong look from John. Your eyes swivel back around to look back at the aforementioned she.  _Mary Gillis._

Arthur’s current love, one of few outsiders ever to be brought into your small encampment. You didn’t exactly dislike her per se, you were just convinced that she wasn’t right for Arthur and from the sounds of it, John felt the same.

You sat at an awkward age, not as young as John but not old enough to be given the same responsibilities as Arthur, an in-between that had done nothing to help your growing feelings for the latter – who you had been spending more time with lately as he taught you how to shoot better.

A laugh pulls you out from your thoughts as you watch Mary giggle as something Dutch says, Arthur laughs too but you notice how his grip tightens in jealousy and something inside you sinks at the sight. What you would give for Arthur to give you the same treatment, but instead when you laugh at Dutch’s joke, he just laughs with you. He still sees you as the same kid you’ve always been to him.

There’s something about him that’s different with her, he acts like he’s always trying to be on his best behaviour, like he’s scared that at the first sign of him messing up Mary will go running for the hills. But at the same time, he seems  _happy,_ happier than you’ve ever seen him and so you can’t bring yourself to hate the woman, no matter how much you wanted to. You couldn’t hate anything that made Arthur that happy.

You’re grateful for John’s current phase of being anti-social, so it didn’t look like you were being a bitch and avoiding her entirely, but you cannot hideout forever. With a sigh, you nudge John gently, causing him to glance up at you and you nod towards them, forcing a smile on your face as you decide the two of you can’t just sit here the whole day when you’ve barely spoke to your guest, Dutch and Hosea would give you both crap later for being rude.

“Come on, we better go sit for a while before Miss Grimshaw sets us about doing everyone’s work for the day,” you say, nodding towards the others. John scans your face for a second, probably seeing right through your façade, he may be a few years your junior, but he  _knew_ you. You grateful when he doesn’t make a comment about it and instead starts towards the others, you trailing behind him.

It’s only a few weeks later that Arthur throws his new shirt into the fire, the beautiful green one you helped him pick out a few days ago for the next time he saw Mary, because even if it was breaking your heart, you were going to be a good friend. The flames lick at the fabric, tinting the edges of it black before swallowing it entirely.

You had heard the news from Bessie and Hosea’s whispered conversation. Though their relationship had always stood on somewhat shaky ground, it seemed to be truly over this time. Mary Gillis had become Mary Linton and left Arthur in her past.

You find him at the edge of camp, whiskey bottle in one hand and cigarette in the other. He doesn’t look as if he’s being crying but he sure as hell looks as if he wants to. Your heart breaks at the sight of him, utterly shattered because the woman he loved didn’t love him back the way she should have. The way you would have.

You sit down next to him, too afraid to offer any physical comfort because you’re not sure if he’ll accept it. He doesn’t even acknowledge your presence, but you’re there and all you can do is hope that it’s enough.

Neither of you speaks for quite some time and you can only hope that you are giving him some sort of comfort by being here as you watch him take another swig from the bottle before hanging his head with a low groan.

“Do you know what it’s like to love someone so much you don’t think you can take it?” His voice almost startles you, its low and quivers in a way you’ve never heard before and he’s not even looking at you, continuing to stare into the distance as if he never spoke at all.

And the question, well that’s damn near heart-breaking in itself, because you do and the someone that applies to for you is Arthur, who feels that way about another person. You take a second to answer, words failing you as you feel hot tears spring to your eyes, but you push them down. Right now, this is not about your heart break, it’s about his.

“Yes,” you answer him, finally feeling brave enough to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder in an effort to offer some more support. No more words are exchanged as you both stare at nothing, but he brings his hand up to cover yours where it rests on his shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

The sun rises over on the hills, dawn making way for a new beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader deals with Eliza and Isaac.

Silence had never bothered you, sometimes you preferred it. It allowed you to be alone with your thoughts, to work through them and allow your mind to be at peace. You liked the silence to listen to the sound of nature, the quiet trample of deer hooves and the sound of birds chirping their songs to one another.

But  _this,_ this type of silence was deafening.

You remember it all so clearly. It was unclear when he first met her, some months after the fall out with Mary you suppose, that Arthur had fallen into bed with a pretty young waitress and gotten her pregnant.

You had been jealous, you definitely remember that much. That you always thought Arthur thought of you like some little kid but then he goes and sleeps with someone who was the same age as you. It had hurt and you had to hold back your tears at his mix of utter joy and fear when he found out she was expecting a child,  _his_ child.

You also remember his glee when he had returned to camp a few weeks after little Isaac was born. “It’s a boy,” he yelled, jumping off his horse and into Hosea’s arms with glee. There had been a celebration that night and you don’t think you can ever recall Arthur being so happy as he told drunken stories about his son around the campfire. You couldn’t help but share in his joy, sitting shoulder to shoulder with John as you both listen to stories about his son’s shit with endless laughter. It had been one of the best nights you’d ever spent in the camp and your jealousy abated a little as you saw how much his new family had lit him up.

You remember the first time you met her. Arthur and you had been out hunting, trying to scrounge up more food for your suddenly vastly expanding camp. Gone were the days when it was just Dutch, Hosea, John, Arthur and you. Not that you minded too much really, you liked talking with Bessie and Annabelle, Ms. Grimshaw could also be really good to talk to when she wasn’t nagging about chores.

“I haven’t seen the boy in a few weeks and Eliza lives near here – if you wouldn’t mind taking a little detour?” He’d tried to hide it, but you could easily spot the excitement in his eyes as the thought of seeing them again and had agreed to go, despite your own nervousness on the matter.

She had been beautiful, you had known that much from the moment you had clapped eyes on her, a small boy sitting on the ground beside her as she hung out sheets to dry. She had smiled at you, Isaac reaching out his arms to be picked up by his Pa who gladly obliged him.

You had sat with her on the steps of her porch as Arthur held his son up to his horse, encouraging him to pat the gentle beast. As you spoke to her, your jealousy disappeared entirely. They were not two people in love, they were two people who were lonely and had indulged themselves for a single night, a young boy being the product of their indulgence.

You had liked her, she was fiery and funny. You had seen Arthur in a new light that day, different somehow, lighter, as he helped her with the cooking and the three of you had laughed around the dinner table as you regaled stories of Arthur when the two of you were younger.

Later, as you watched Arthur rock his son until he fell asleep, she had approached you and nudged your shoulder before nodding towards Arthur. “You should tell him how you feel, he’s rather clueless about that kind of stuff.”

It had caught you off guard and you hadn’t been able to formulate a response, but the look on your face must have said something because she let out a quiet laugh and shook her head at you.

You may have been the same age, but Eliza seemed wise beyond her years.

Arthur lays beneath the stars with you later the same night, watching as they twinkle above you. You steal a glance at him, you had known he had wanted to stay longer but you had to get the meat back to camp before it went bad. You remember how he was with his beautiful boy, how his soft expression had been entirely focused on his son and impossibly, you fell more in love with him.

“You’re a good father, Arthur.” You tell him, because Arthur is never told that he is good enough and sometimes you like to remind him that he is more than enough. You watch as the blush rises to his cheeks, the soft whistle that leaves him as he processes your words and he turns to look at you.

You expect the normal denial that he gives, that he ain’t a good man and all the rest of it. But there’s something alight in his eyes as he looks at you. “You think so?” There’s a rare tone of hopefulness in his voice and you can tell just how important this is to him.

In the dark, you reach out for his hand and squeeze it gently, “I saw you with your boy today, I  _know_ so.”

You’ll never forget the beaming smile you get from him in response, or how he never let go of your hand until you both fell asleep staring at the stars.

You had seen them perhaps a handful more times, sometimes Hosea and Bessie would tag along with reams of gifts for Isaac. You wondered if they saw him as a grandson of sorts and were happy that they could spoil a child at some point because you knew how badly that they wanted one of their own.

Dutch and John had also tagged along once or twice, with John looking at Isaac as if he had no clue what a baby was. You had grown to like Eliza a lot, liked her wit and how well she always seemed to handle when Arthur showed up with unexpected guests.

You also grew to have some amount of love for the small boy, you liked making him laugh and helping him stack together the wooden blocks he got from Hosea. You had liked them, had adopted them into your strange circle of family and people you trust.

Now they lay cold in the ground, Isaac barely past his second birthday, for the sake of ten dollars.

No one had seen Arthur for weeks, so a worried Hosea had gone looking for him and had checked Eliza’s place, finding only two markers in their place.

He had found Arthur in a bar, drunk and half dead from the looks of it. Dragging him back to camp with a heavy heart as he took in the state of his son, of the boy who he loved so much that had lost what he loved most in the world.

You find Arthur in a similar position to where you found him a few years back when he’d been heartbroken over Mary. You hadn’t thought you could see a sadder man when you had saw him then and you hated to be proved wrong by the sight in front of you. Tears stream slightly down his face, an empty bottle of whiskey has been tossed to the side as he stares at the endless forest in the clearing beneath you.

You have no idea what to say, the grief you feel at the loss must be nothing compared to what Arthur feels. The  _sorry_  sits on the tip of your tongue, but it feels hollow and insincere. You sit beside him instead, hoping action will help where words have entirely failed you and place a hand on his shoulder, just like you had before.

And just like before, he grabs it, except his grip is strong and he holds you as if you’re the anchor stopping him from drowning in the vast ocean. You have no idea if he’ll be alright, if he’ll be the same when he comes out from the other side of this. But you’re here and you love him with every fibre of your being and, for right now, that will have to be enough.

In the vast darkness of the sky above, the stars shine on.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the reader meets a new man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late but I wanted to post this so sorry for any errors!

The next few months pass slowly. The gang scales back a little on jobs because Arthur’s state of mind hasn’t been ideal, no matter how much he may insist that he’s fine. It’s obvious that though he is slowly coming back to himself, something has  _changed_ , something irreversible and everyone’s still holding their breath and waiting to see if it’s going to be a good or a bad thing.

For your part, you just try and be his friend – the confidant you’ve always been to him and although he can’t quite find the words, you know he’s grateful and that’s enough.

You pass most of your time either helping Annabelle and Bessie or running jobs with the gang. Hosea was increasingly impressed with your shooting skills and it seemed John was becoming a decent shot on his own. Any time spent with Arthur is usually spent in quiet companionship – hunting mostly, even if both your kills are always messy. He never asks for your company, but you always tag along because you’re afraid he’s going to drink himself stupid again and get himself hurt. He never says anything about your presence, so you figured he didn’t mind.

Yet that was the thing with Arthur lately, though he was always a man of few words, he seemed to speak even less these days and you weren’t entirely sure what to make of it. Though you have noticed that he’d spent more and more time scribbling away in that journal of his, so you figure he’s at least processing something of what he is feeling.

It’s mundane almost, well, mundane for a group of outlaws. You almost prefer it, the easy cons with Hosea and the days you fish with John. It’s a peace you associated with home, with the easy days spent at the dinner table between your mother and father, before it had all gone away.

Dutch though, Dutch is becoming restless, tiring of the months you’ve all spent doing casual work. You know him, can tell he misses the high, the scent of danger in the air as you carry out a job and you know that this kind of peace will not last long. You can tell Hosea misses it too, but he is subtler, more under his control but you think that there’s only so much Hosea can let fly under his radar before it becomes a whispered word to Dutch and you knew how it went from there. Your only worry is that you are unsure if Arthur is ready to  _live_  yet, it seemed he was still just trying to survive.

You are glad for Annabelle, who seems to read Dutch like the back of her hand and quiet the storms in his mind. Almost a year she had been running with the gang now and she slotted in easily, but you had been unsure at first. She had seemed very Miss High and Mighty, but she had quickly proved you wrong, showing herself to be down to earth and thoughtful – even if she did like to dress in fine clothing. She was Dutch’s polar opposite, but it worked, and you were thankful for it.

Running to town for supplies was another consequence of staying in one place for longer than usual, instead of picking things up as you pass through towns, but now people had to be sent for supplies. It had happened before but was a far less common task that it had been of late. This time around it fell to you and John, which you didn’t mind. You liked John’s company, especially lately as you watched with an odd pride as he comes into his own man, nearly sixteen now, so not yet the man he thinks he is - yet not the boy he once was either.

That’s when you meet  _him_. You drop some supplies as your loading them into the cart and let out a soft curse, glancing around to find that John has disappeared off somewhere and left you with the finishing details as he goes off to find god knows what.

“Let me help you,” his voice is smooth and his hands are warm as he takes the box from your hands. He’s tall and handsome, with tan skin and hazel eyes which causes something in your stomach to flutter in a way you usually associate with Arthur and you’re consumed.

He introduces himself as George Davis, a farmhand who works at the farm just outside of town. His clothes are dirty, but that somehow adds to his appeal – you liked a man who worked, who did what he could to lend a hand.

John comes back and catches you laughing too loudly at something George had said. “We have to go,” he says and you snapped back to reality, hoping you didn’t imagine the disappointed looked in his eye when John had interrupted.

Like a gentleman, George helps you onto the wagon. You didn’t need it, but it felt nice to be given the niceties other women are given which you so frequently miss out on when living with a bunch of outlaws, especially when half of those people still saw you as a kid even if you were nearing your 21st birthday.

“Will I see you again?” He asks, his eyes playful as he watches you grip the reins.

It foolish, Dutch could decide for you all to up and leave at any given moment. You should not commit to anything.

“Definitely,” you answer.

You seem him again and again, eager to go on the supply runs in the weeks to follow. John always accompanies you and you are grateful for it, knowing that if any of the other men found out about your flirtation, George would have a hell of a lot to answer for.

You even sneak out to see him a few times, sharing kisses under the stars and taking strolls around the town. It’s not quite love, for you at least, not yet. But for the first time in your life you feel desired by a man who you desired, it was a powerful sort of feeling that made you feel dizzy and you couldn’t get enough of it. So, while it wasn’t love, you couldn’t help but think that one day it could be.

Another week passes and the gang does end up moving camp – but not so far that there is another town that is closer. You get the wagon ready for another supply run, you probably didn’t even need as much as you were bringing in, but no one seemed to complain, and the cons Hosea was running seemed to keep the income steady enough that you weren’t breaking the budget.

John sits under the shade of the tree as you finish up one or two things, having already done his part by saddling up the horses and putting some boxes in the back. You’re just finishing off checking a list from Bessie when Arthur shows his face, taking a glance at the wagon and a glance at a half-asleep John.

“Why don’t I come with you this time? I’ve hardly been to town yet and John’s so bored of it he’s falling asleep.” He looks at you with a strange look, eyes almost pleading, and you feel a stab of guilt.

While you hadn’t exactly been avoiding him, you hadn’t been spending any time with him either. George had, for lack of better words, messed with your head. Not that he was doing anything wrong, but as you spent more and more time with George you felt guilty about your feelings for Arthur. So you had spent less time with the latter, hoping to sort through your feelings and finally put your love for Arthur to bed.

You thought that you maybe had a handle on it, but as he looked at you with those soft blue eyes, you knew you were lying to yourself.

John glances up at you and you know that he’s willing to fight Arthur to go instead if you wanted him to. You were so glad for the bond you and John shared, it meant a lot to you, to have someone who understood you so well without having to explain too much.

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You say and watch as John visibly relaxes back into his previous position. Arthur seems to let out a long breath and climbs up into to the wagon beside you, taking the reigns and guiding the horses onto the road ahead.

As you ride, you notice how Arthur shifts in his seat a little too much and you know him well enough that he wants to say something but just can’t get it out yet. You wait, because you know how pushing him can sometimes lead him to be short and you’d much rather avoid the argument if you can.

“So,” he begins after another few beats, eyes glancing at you from under his hat before flicking back to the road, “you been avoiding me or something? Have I done something idiotic and offended you without realising?”

The guilt rises up in you once more as you realised that while trying to sort through your feelings, you had somehow stopped being a good friend when Arthur still needed support. It weighs heavily on your chest and your skin feels hot as you think about just how shitty you’ve been to him lately. Even when he was with Mary, he had still made time for you.

“What? Of course not, you think I’d let you offend me and not tell you about it within five seconds? You’ve done nothing wrong.” You play it down a little, not wanting him to see just how guilty you felt because then he would know you had been spending less time with him for some reason.

“Well…” he shifts again, hands fiddling ever so slightly with the reigns as he gathers his next thought. “Why you been avoiding me then?”

“See Arthur the thing is –“ you were going to tell him the truth, but he looks at you fully now – not just peering out from his hat – expectant for some sort of answer from you. He looks so beautiful and you notice that he’s acting like his old self and it's been weeks since he’s been like this. Suddenly you can’t tell him, it feels like you’ve wronged him somehow, with your liking for George and the words die in your throat.

“I’m sorry Arthur, I’ve just been stuck in my own head. I’ll try be better.”

He accepts your answer with a small nod and you hate how easily you lied.

 

* * *

 

You gather the supplies pretty quickly and it goes a lot quicker as you are less likely to goof off with Arthur than you are with John. Arthur is also quite a bit stronger than John so the whole process of loading everything up seems to go a lot more smoothly too.

The ground is soft and muddy beneath you, a consequence of the rain the day before and you try in vain to tap some of the mud of your favourite boots on the wagon wheel. As you glance down, you notice how worn Arthur’s boots are and you softly sigh, shaking your head at him.

“What?” He asks, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as he waits for whatever you’re going to say.

You look down and he follows your gaze but doesn’t seem to catch your meaning before glancing back up at you with a small shrug. “Woman, we’ve been over this before – I ain’t no mind reader. You’re going to have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

You laugh at him, shaking your head once more. “When was the last time you bought new boots? Your toes are about five seconds away from poking through and getting muddy too. Go get yourself a new pair and I’ll guard the stuff while I wait.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but another glance down at his boots seems to change his mind. “Alright,” he agrees, “but don’t think I’m doing it just because you told me to.”

You laugh at him again and watch as he trudges his way across the street. You were too engrossed in what Arthur was doing that you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings and smacked right into someone’s chest.

That someone happened to be George, who steadied you before glancing down at you with a beaming smile. You hadn’t expected him to be in town, you had planned to see him tomorrow – it’s why you so easily agreed for Arthur to replace John on this trip.

“Hello,” he greets, bending down to place a kiss on your cheek before straightening back up to his full height. He takes a look at the wagon, more neatly packed than usual then looks at you with raised eyebrows, “John finally learn how to place the boxes in without throwing them?”

You shake your head, a smile tugging on your own lips, “you don’t think  _I_ can pack a wagon that neatly?”

You realise that you should be finding some way to get rid of him to save you having to explain Arthur. George didn’t know too much about your lifestyle and you didn’t want to scare him off just yet, but his hands felt warm around your waist, yet to be moved from when he steadied you and just this once you wanted to feel some normalcy.

George opens his mouth to answer but something over your shoulder makes him stop, you’re about to turn around and see what it was when you felt a hand on your shoulder tugging you backwards.

You find the newcomer to be Arthur, having returned from the store much sooner than you thought he would. He tugs you out of George’s embrace as well as taking a step forward so that he stands in-between you and George.

“Everything alright here?” His jaw is set and his gaze is trained on George, something almost dangerous in his eyes as he catches the other man glancing over his shoulder to you. It’s strange and you would almost guess that Arthur seems jealous, but that, that just seemed absurd. You had known Arthur for years, had pined for him for longer than you cared to admit – you would know if he had felt something for you. You were sure of it.

“Everything’s fine Arthur, lets just go.” You say, pulling on Arthur’s arm and nudging him towards the wagon. He waits, offering you hand onto the wagon as his glance remains fixed on George, as if daring him to say something or take a step closer.

He gets on the wagon himself in one swift movement, hands gripping the reins like a vice as he prompts the horses to move off. You glance behind you, watching a confused George be left in the dust, panic seizes your chest as you realise that you don’t want this wonderful man to think ill of you.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You yell back at him and it seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was in as he nods his confirmation.

“Tomorrow.”

Beside you in the seat you feel Arthur tense, nudging the horses to go faster as the wagon wheels out of town.

The sky above becomes grey and murky, looking like there’s going to be more rain. In the distance, there’s a low ripple of thunder. Seemed there was a storm coming.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hosea and Dutch had a very sexual relationship that involved Bessie and Annabelle and you can't change my mind

The rain lashes down heavy that night, battering against the window of the abandoned cottage that Dutch had led all of you to until the storm eases up.

You glare at the dim fire in front of you, throwing in another log as Copper lets out another whine as the wind howls through the gaps in the old building. It was a surprise that the dog was sitting next to you, it was so rare that he ever left Arthur’s side – but you wouldn’t want to be near Arthur either, not with the mood that he’s in.

You were in quite the mood yourself. You had been looking forward to spending more time with George, but you had been dragged up here the moment you had stepped foot into camp, tents already folded up by Grimshaw and everything neatly stacked into the remaining wagons. In a small cramped cabin like this, there was no way you would be able to sneak out for a few hours to see George.

Another part of your foul mood was Arthur, he had not spoken to you the whole ride back to camp nor had he spoken on the journey to the cabin. You couldn’t figure it out, you refused to believe it was jealousy – it just sounded so ridiculous that you had dismissed the thought almost as quickly as it came. You were frustrated because it made no sense why he was acting like this, you had been supportive throughout his relationship with Mary, so you couldn’t wrap your head around his mood swings.

You had thought it might be some sort of brotherly concern, but then you thought that John would share those same concerns and while he was wary of George – for good reason, people like you always have to be wary around new people – he was never outright rude to the man like Arthur had been.

You were going to have to talk to him – as pissed off as you were – because you weren’t sure how much time you would have left with George before you all moved camp again and you didn’t want Arthur to ruin what little time you had left with him.

It shouldn’t be too hard to speak to him, considering that the two of you had ended up with cots on opposite sides of the same room. Dutch, Hosea and their partners had taken the big room upstairs for reasons you thought were better left unheard, the other big room had gone to Ms Grimshaw and Uncle, the latter of whom had seemingly appeared out of nowhere the last few months and had taken up camp with the gang. The downstairs region consisted of two rooms, one of which was taken by the two new boys, Mac and Davey Calendar, whom Dutch had picked up from one of the towns near here. John had taken one look at both you and Arthur and had decided that he didn’t want to put up with either of your sour moods for the night and opted to share with the brothers.

You were currently waiting for him to return with Hosea, they had gone out to get more firewood before the rain got too bad but from the looks of things, they would be returning shortly. Bessie was handing out blankets to everyone and came to sit next to you, giving Copper’s head a scratch as she did so.

“They should be back soon,” she laments as she continues to pet Copper, her fingers carding through his ginger fur. You simply hum in agreement, eyes still focused on the fire. You could feel Bessie staring at you, but you chose to ignore it, not quite willing to explain things you didn’t rightly understand yourself.

“You and Arthur are both in some moods today, anything to do with the new man you’ve been seeing?” That catches your attention, you whip around to face her, eyes wide with surprise as Bessie laughs at you gently. “Don’t worry dear, Dutch and Hosea are none the wiser – which is probably a good thing, poor boy wouldn’t stand a chance if they found out he’d had his hands on you. But you don’t think I’m as obtuse as those two when it comes to your coming and goings in camp, do you?”

You blink at her dumbly once more, before letting out a quiet chuckle and shaking your head, “I guess not.”

“Care to explain?” She gently probed, eyes curious. You huffed, knowing Bessie that look meant that she wasn’t leaving until she had some sort of information out of you – she’d been with Hosea too long, you thought, starting to pick up on some of his dirty tricks.

“I’m not sure I can,” you huff leaning back on your elbows, “not rightly sure what happened. But Arthur was rude, and I can’t figure out why he’d be like that.”

 “Maybe he was jealous.”

You huff out a laugh at that, “Arthur doesn’t see me like that and that’s a fact I know good and well.”

Bessie’s eyebrows perk as she spares you another glance, “sometimes it takes seeing someone with another person to make them realise what’s been right in front of them.”

You frown, the meaning of her statement going over your head. You’re about to question what she means when the door swings open and the chill of the wind sweeps through the small room, sending shivers up your spine as Arthur and Hosea drag in the wood they found. The door swings shut with a loud bang as Hosea makes his way towards the fire for warmth. Arthur catches sight of you sitting by it and decides to keep himself stationed by the door.

You roll your eyes at his antics and move over to your cot, flopping yourself down on it. As you predicted Arthur moves towards the fire as soon as you move away from it, shrugging off his soaked jacket in the process. It seemed that you were going to have to be the one to start the conversation.

Hosea looks as if he was about to say something, but a look from Bessie and he seemed to think better of it. He looks between the two of you and sighs, probably having picked up on something from being out with Arthur, he stands, stretching his limbs before extending a hand to his wife. Copper lift his head and trots off somewhere, probably to see if he can get any treats from John.

“Well, we’re off upstairs before the other two start missing us. Good night kids,” he said with a nod at both of you before they both made themselves scarce. You always knew Dutch and Hosea had something between them but you never quite figured out how the women fitted into it, everyone seemed happy though and by those standards, you were fine with it.

Though your anger somewhat disappeared in the time Arthur had been out, watch him sit by the fire not even looking at you made it fester back up. You had understood him being upset at spending time away from him, but you had apologised and promised to make up for it – so it couldn’t be anything to do with that. He had no right to be angry at you for trying to be happy, all you had done for all these years was try and help him find his happiness, why couldn’t he do the same for you?

“You going tell me what I’ve done wrong or are you going to sit there and sulk all night?” You snap, sitting upright in your cot as you wait for his answer. He turns to you ever so slightly and you can see the tension in his jaw, but he still says nothing.

You wait some more, wondering if he was going to defend his mood or just leave you there wondering. It’s infuriating, the one time you try to move on from him and he goes and turns it all to shit. Typical.

“Well?” You question but are yet again met with more silence. Your anger increases, you cross the room until you are standing in front of him, hands on your hips as he finally glances up to look at you. His blue eyes are like steel, unreadable as he lets out a long breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re desperate to know what the hell he’s thinking.

“I didn’t like it,” he confesses, eyes cast back down to his feet. You blink once, twice and wonder what the hell kind of response that was.

“You didn’t like it,” you repeat, trying not to get angry again because at least he was finally saying something. Your nose scrunches up as you glance back down at him, still seated on the bench in front of the fire.  “Why?”

At first, he only shrugs, but a quick glance up at you tells you that a shrug isn’t the answer you were looking for. He sighs and shifts his feet, “I didn’t like seeing you with someone else. I –“ he frowns, as if searching for the right thing to say, “I didn’t like him.”

You move away from in front of him, he was so frustrating – only giving half answers that you couldn’t make sense of. “You don’t even know him,” you are desperate to yell but too keenly aware of the small cabin and the nosy people who live in it. “You didn’t even give him a chance, you just took one look at him and decided you didn’t like him – “

 In a flash, Arthur is in front of you, nostrils flaring, and it takes you back to realise he’s angry, what on earth did he have to be angry about?

“Yes!” He also keeps his voice low, but his whisper comes through gritted teeth, “one look at him with his arms around you and I wanted to rip his goddamn head off.”

The words don’t process for you, because you cannot, _will not,_ believe that Arthur felt any kind of jealousy towards you and George without hearing the words with your own ears. You’ve spent too long getting your hopes up only to have them crushed again. You refuse to believe it. He’s standing close, so close that you can feel his warm breath fan across your face when he speaks.

You tilt your head up, your own eyes meeting with his. They are no longer steel, they now are the ocean, waves crashing violently against the sand as his chest heaves with his own anger.

“What are you trying to say, Arthur?”

Thunder crashes outside the window, illuminating the room with its bright light. At the same time, Arthur crashes his lips onto yours.


	5. Chapter 5

The rain continues outside, cold wind blowing and making the whole cabin shake with the strength of it, but you feel nothing but warmth. Arthur’s lips are on yours, hands sliding down from your face to your hips pulling you flush against him.

It had taken you a second to react, but soon your hands were tangled in his hair and you’re pushing yourself up against him. You feel his tongue, begging for entry and you gladly give it to him. It was foreign almost, your kisses with George had been chaste, something of a gentle spark between you.

But Arthur, Arthur kisses like fire, like he is the flame itself burning so brightly in the middle of the darkness – and if Arthur is the fire, you want to be consumed by it.

Eventually, you have to come up for air and all you can do is stare at each other – the sinking weight of what just happened settling in. His arms are still encircling your waist and your hands are still tangled in his hair. You want to feel good because after all this time something had finally happened, but all you could feel was a pang of sinking guilt because this wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be when you were both free, when you could give yourselves to each other completely, but now, the whole thing was complicated, and you had no idea what to do about it.

Arthur opens his mouth and looks like he was about to say something when you hear a crash coming from the other room and the two of you jump apart as if you’d been burned.

John comes tumbling through the doorway, his form barely visible in the dying light from the fire, half asleep and grumbling as he flops down on the bench by the fireplace, throwing a log onto it, casting light into the room once more.

“I’m sleeping here, the Calander boys won’t shut their mouths for five goddamn minutes to let me fall asleep.” You and Arthur both stand still, seemingly still in shock from the events that had passed between you two within the past several minutes.

You nod at John feeling stiff and awkward, “yeah, okay then.” You shuffle towards your bed, barely sparing a glance at Arthur as you lay down on your cot and, after a moment you hear him do the same.

The whole room is silent, save for the soft snores coming from John.

You barely sleep, tossing and turning all night as you try to process everything. On the one hand, you were happy, so happy that it felt like the joy could burst right out of your chest if you thought about it too much. But then thoughts of George would creep in and guilt would weigh you down, heavy like a stone as you thought of the look of betrayal on his face if he ever found out.

Your mind went in circles all night and a few times you turned your head to look at Arthur.

He was always looking back.

You honestly have no idea what you want him to say, too afraid that he just got his emotions confused, too afraid that he’ll write it off as nothing. At least for tonight, if you don’t talk to him, you can pretend it was something.

The dawn breaks and you wake to sunshine creeping in through the breaks in the wooden slats. Arthur and John have already disappeared, probably off to find something to eat.

The day is surprisingly warm for one so soon after a storm, you stretch aching limbs and being the tedious task of packing everything up – knowing that Dutch will want to be moving on sooner rather than later.

You nod a greeting at Mac and Davey as you walk outside to where Bessie loads goods onto the wagon with Annabelle’s help. You started helping immediately, thinking that you have enough snacks in your saddlebag to get you through the afternoon without having to scrounge up something for breakfast.

“Morning,” you greet them, picking up a box to be moved onto the wagon, “all the men up and disappeared and left us to do the dirty work?”

Annabelle’s laughs lightly at that, “Hosea caught a lead when he was in town today, and you know how that man gets when he finds an easy con – they’re all cooking up some plan. Were gonna wait on you for it – but you were sound asleep.”

You laugh a little at yourself at that – only feeling a little let down at the fact that you were being left out of a job, but perhaps it was for the better – you had a lot of things that you had to think through.

The men appear eventually, and you know its something exciting when he’s got that spring in his step and that smile on his face. You all gather around him automatically, Dutch always being able to pull all of you into his orbit.

“Right,” he says, clasping his hands together with excitement, “Hosea has lined us up something real good – should bring in a lot of money if we do this right. Annabelle, my dear, if you wouldn’t mind coming with me and John into town today to check a few things?”

Annabelle nods diligently, but you can tell how excited she is already. Dutch would most likely treat her in some way, a new gown or a piece of jewellery – something that made her feel special and wanted. It was sweet, in its own way you supposed but apart of you was waiting for the other shoe to drop, Dutch always tired of his conquests, eventually.

“The rest of you are going to go and set up our new camp, Hosea knows the way. It’s not too far away from here but far enough that we’ll be out of range from this town. We’ll regroup tomorrow evening and plan from there.”

As always, you all nod along with Dutch’s plan. At the mention of a new town, your mind momentarily drifted to George – you would have to speak to him and try sort it what it is you wanted and he was still close enough for that to be possible. Yet perhaps more pressing than that was a conversation with Arthur to work out what the hell happened last night.

You help load the final things into the wagon and Arthur barely spares a glance at you the entire time. You have no idea what to make of it, last night he had done nothing but stare and now he wouldn’t glance in your direction.

The best way to do this, you think, is to face this head on and so you decide to grab him quickly before everyone sets off.

“Arthur,” you say as you approach, and he turns around looking like a startled deer. He looks how you feel, confused and left out in the cold. Perhaps he doesn’t know what to make of last night any more than you do. “When we get to the new camp, we should talk.”

His only response was a grunt and a nod, knowing Arthur that was about as good as you were going to get.

With that, you get on your horse and begin the journey to the new camp. The day was hot, and you had to remove your hat several times to wipe sweat from your brow. The whole thing went a lot slower than it had to because Uncle couldn’t ride very fast, kept on blaming it on lumbago and keeping a steady pace on his horse – you just thought he wanted to go slow so he could ride and drink at the same time.

What was supposed to be a ride that took little over an hour, took almost two because of it. So, it was almost dark by the time everyone got to the new camp location, you still wanted to speak with Arthur, but everything still had to be set up and some sort of stew still had to be made for dinner. You were exhausted from the ride, but knew it wasn’t fair to sit back and let everyone else do the work when you’d all done the same amount of riding that day.

By the time you get a moment by yourself, it’s well after dark and most of the gang have crawled into bed, with you half a mind to follow their lead. But you thought you saw Arthur still hanging around and you really wanted to speak to him.

You were nervous about it, terrified that he really would chalk it up to heightened emotions or something and leave it at that, but you had to be brave. Besides, if he does crush all your hopes you reason that perhaps you’ll finally be able to put your feelings for him to bed once and for all.

He’s standing at the edge of camp when you approach, looking lost in thought about something. You take a moment and admire him, wondering at what a handsome man he really was, it was such a shame that he didn’t see it.

“Hey,” you say as you approach, and he turns around and gives you the softest smile you’ve ever seen. He takes a step towards you and stops himself, looking a little unsure before opening his mouth to speak, “I was hoping you and me would get a chance to talk today.”

Your heart leaps a little at that, but you will yourself to calm down – just because he wanted to talk to you didn’t mean that it would be a good outcome.

You consider what to say for a moment, before finally settling on, “you kissed me, Arthur.”

He looks almost startled at your straightforwardness and a hand comes up to rub the back of his neck as his eyes sweep over your form, “you ain’t playing around today, are you?”

You say nothing in response and instead cock an eyebrow, he takes another step towards you and reaches for your hand, taking it in his own and giving it a small squeeze.

“Listen, I know it was unexpected – hell, I wasn’t expecting it myself – but I’ve been thinking a lot about this and I know you have that other feller. But well, shit, I ain’t doing this right,” he mumbles, and you give his hand a small squeeze to encourage him to continue – it sounded like it might be going somewhere good but you were still too afraid to get your hopes up.

“The point I’m trying to make is – “he’s interrupted by loud footsteps and you turn to see John barrelling towards camp at lightning speed. You honestly could have killed him then, for interrupting such an important moment – but he gets closer and you can read fear written across his face.

“There was a run in with Colm,” he pants, and you now notice he looks like he’s had a bad beating, “he’s killed her, Arthur. Annabelle is dead.”

In the sky above, the clouds cover the stars – blocking their light from view.


	6. Chapter 6

Time stands still and the world is void of warmth, save for Arthur’s hand that still grips yours – tighter now, since John delivered the news. You and Arthur both move to leave, to find Dutch and Annabelle and make sure that John saw what he saw, because you had to be sure. But Hosea stops you both before you can even move and you can see the older man is shaken – so beyond disbelief that he almost looks like a ghost.

“You all wait here while I go get Dutch. Wait here and make sure everyone else is alright if we’re not back by morning – “ his expression is pained as he glances over towards his wife, her hands clasped neatly in front of her as she waits for him to say his goodbye, “you take everyone and run.”

He’s talking to Arthur mostly, but he spares a glance at you before he turns to his wife. You feel numb, while you weren’t particularly close to Annabelle, but the thought that she could be dead seemed too far out of reach – she was one of you and none of your people just died.

You both nod mutely and watch as a shaking Hosea presses his forehead to his wife’s. You feel Arthur give your hand a gentle squeeze before he lets it go to wrap an arm around Bessie as you all watch Hosea ride of, dread settling in your stomach like a stone.

You turn to John, extending out an arm and offering him as much of a smile as you can muster, “let's get you cleaned up.”

You feel Arthur’s eyes burn into you as you leave and you can feel it to – fear, palpable in camp as you all try to pretend that the whole world didn’t just implode, as if everything you had known to be safe and solid wasn’t ripped out from under you.

No one had ever died before.

You clean John with a soft hand and he barely speaks a word as you wipe the dirt from his face. It almost feels like a dream, as if you were in some horrible nightmare that just kept continuing on. John, for his part, barely speaks a word as you continue your work, wiping away dirt until the purple bruises revealed themselves from underneath.

“I tried to help – we both did, but there was so damn many of ‘em and only the three of us. Colm had Annabelle before we could blink – said it was payback for the job we stole from him a few weeks back. I fought but those damn O’Driscolls were too strong –“

“Hey – “ you interrupt with a soft voice, as if you were talking to a spooked horse, “none of this was your fault, John. You said it yourself – you were outnumbered. You did what you could, this is just the world we live in.”

You mean them to comfort, but the words taste like lead on your tongue. This was the world you had chosen, the world that you had grown up in, had loved for most of your life. You had known the dangers – you weren’t stupid, but none of it had ever felt so real until now.

John nods mutely and you can’t really tell if your words had comforted him or not, but you tried your best. “Put some clean clothes on and pack up your stuff, we’ll be leaving soon.”

In the small amount of time you were helping John, the camp is mostly packed up. Arthur andd Bessie had made short work of the camp you’d been staying in, everything once more neatly packed in wagons and ready to go. You help tie the horses to the side so they don’t run off and then mont the wagon with Arthur. John and Bessie mont the one behind and the Callender boys jump in the back, and with a simple click of the tongue, you move on yet, it still feels like half of you is still there, standing in the dust.

No one speaks a word for most of the journey, it’s probably best tat you all kept quiet anyway – the O’Driscolls would be on alert now as much as you all were – and you’d hate to see what would happen if you crossed paths. At some point Arthur places his hand on your leg, it’s not much, but it makes your heart rate calm down a little.

You keep going until none of you can go on any longer – it’s probably a safe distance away now that you can all rest for a bit. Arthur would probably go put feelers out for where Dutch and Hosea where in the morning. You feel bone tired and wide awake at the same time, you help Bessie make stew and when you all sit around the campfire, little more is said over dinner.

Night falls too slowly and too quickly all at once. You toss and turn in your cot until you can’t take it any more. You tread quietly, and gently push open his tent a little, “ _Arthur.”_

You hear him move and take that as an invitation to enter his tent fully. His union suit lies half-open, exposing the golden muscles of his chest as an out of place hair falls across his forehead.

“Arthur,” you repeat, not knowing what else to say – you wanted to tell him you were afraid, but then would admitting it not let the fear win? You had to be strong, this was not the time for you to fall apart.

“I know,” he breathes instead and as his blue eyes meet yours, you can tell he feels the same way. Not another word is exchanged between you as you climb into the cot beside him, your head on his chest.

There were still a million things to worry about – Hosea and Dutch, the O’Driscolls in general, George – but tonight you just wanted to feel safe.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and you concentrate on the steady beating of his heart. You don’t know when or how, but you eventually drift off into a dreamless sleep.

It’s only a half-moon tonight, the light and the dark mixing together to create something beautiful.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> So in this fic it will cover a series of events in Arthur and the reader's lives.
> 
> I also take requests over at ofstagdreams on tumblr!


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